Colorado Courtship

by Cheryl St. John

  “Tessa and I went shopping today, as you know.”

  He nodded.

  “She let me know you wanted me to have several dresses.”

  “I hope you weren’t offended. You may already have enough clothing.”

  “I don’t have appropriate clothing, and I’m not offended. I understand I have a place in your household now and I should look my best in public.”

  “Were you able to select things you’ll like?”

  “Yes, of course. My concern is the cost. I’ve only begun to earn my keep and wages. I shall be indebted to you for the cost until I’ve been here long enough to repay it.”

  “I won’t hear any more talk of indebtedness,” he said. “Our terms of your employment included food, lodging and clothing.”

  “I thought perhaps a few work dresses would be included, not such lovely—and expensive—things.”

  “Do you need work dresses, as well?”

  “No, I can wear my own.”

  “All right. Your wages are your wages, Miss Bennett, to use any way you see fit. Food, a room and clothing are my concern. A position like this requires a sacrifice many women aren’t willing or able to make. You’ve already relocated in an unfamiliar place. Your schedule will revolve around ours for as long as you’re in my employ. You’ve made a big commitment to my family, and I don’t take that lightly.”

  He made it sound as though she was doing him a favor, instead of the other way around. Of course he didn’t know she’d never lived anywhere so nice or had as many choices for meals or used such efficient appliances. There wasn’t a cook around who wouldn’t move lock, stock and barrel to work in this home.

  Still, it was an extravagant expense. “Well, then I thank you.”

  “Have you made yourself familiar with the rest of the house?” he asked.

  She tried not to react, but a growing fear in the back of her mind wouldn’t leave her alone. She’d fought the panic earlier, but she didn’t dare get any closer to the place where he worked. If he wanted her to clean the rooms in the mortuary, she might have to leave.

  Had she seen the entire house? “Not yet.”

  “You’ve barely had time to get settled. Maybe tomorrow you’ll look around. We don’t get the place dirty, so a little dusting is all that’s needed most of the time. Tessa takes care of her own room, but I would appreciate it if you dusted mine and changed sheets on the beds. You may send out bedding and clothing to be laundered. And, Violet?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Please make yourself at home. Use any room you care to and help yourself to the books. There is sufficient lighting in the parlor if you do needlework.”

  “Thank you, but...Mr. Hammond?”

  He nodded to show he was listening.

  Wind buffeted the panes of glass in the long window.

  She took a deep breath. “Do my duties extend to cleaning next door at—at—where you work?”

  “Goodness, no. Someone from town comes once a week to clean the mortuary—more often if we’re especially busy. I should have thought to tell you that. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Relief washed over her at his reply. Once he’d said good-night and gone upstairs, she poured herself a pitcher of warm water and turned down the wick until the oil lamp snuffed out. She felt as though she’d escaped the guillotine. She didn’t think there was enough money in the Carson Springs bank to get her to clean the funeral home.

  When she reached the upstairs hallway, she paused before the door to her room. Voices came from the other end, where the library was, as brother and sister conversed pleasantly. She listened for a moment, not eavesdropping, but learning about their family. Ben Charles chuckled, and the deep sound resonated to where she stood, creating an empty ache in her chest.

  She admired what they shared. She mourned for the loss of family. They had lost parents, too, but they had each other. Something she would never know. She let herself into her room and turned on the light using the wall switch. Lamps on either side of the door lit the room.

  She admired the relationship between Ben Charles and Tessa. Other siblings she’d observed had been young and squabbled most of the time. Perhaps the difference in their ages made a difference. Surely him taking on the responsibility of raising her had changed everything. Ben Charles was devoted to his young sister. Violet thought of how they held hands as he prayed for their meals. Tessa spoke of him with pride and honor, as she would a beloved father. She looked at him with love and respect in every glance. Theirs was an enviable relationship.

  Violet may not have had anything comparable in her life, but she had other things to appreciate. Her employer and his sister were kind and gracious. It seemed this job was hers for as long as she wanted it. Her room was cozy and felt like home already. And she didn’t have to dust the dark side.

  She felt bad for thinking of it like that, but when she thought of what Ben Charles did next door, her attitude darkened and her imagination ran amok. His occupation obviously provided a luxurious home and many comforts for his sister and employees—and he seemed to genuinely enjoy what he did.

  That didn’t mean she would ever be comfortable with his profession or the mortuary next door, but it didn’t look as though he was going to force a closer proximity on her. She was happy right here, and she had no intention of getting any closer.

  As long as the situation remained as it was, she was going to do just fine.

  Chapter Four

  Violet didn’t want to disappoint her employer, who plainly took for granted she’d be going to church. She had no idea how to decide which one to attend, so if a man like Ben Charles attended the Carson Springs First Christian Church, she figured it must be all right. She wore the dress she’d traveled in, because it was the newest, and she took special care with her hair. She had saved a tiny hat that had belonged to her mother, so she pulled it from its box and adjusted it on her hair, securing it with a long pin.

  Violet studied her reflection in the mirror, trying to remember what her mother had looked like, wondering if she resembled her. She had only a few mementos and had been fearful she’d never see them again, after her unexpected flight from Ohio.

  Her belongings had been stored, awaiting her arrival, when she’d used the name Wade Finney had given her to claim them. While she was still angry and resentful, she was thankful for that small favor. The fistful of money he’d thrust at her had been enough to pay for a room until she found a job, to buy a few pieces of clothing for travel and to send telegrams. Ben Charles had paid for her train tickets and wired her money for expenses to get here.

  Already the fire seemed so long ago. She and her father had both grieved over selling the shop to the Finneys and now it had gone up in smoke. At least her father hadn’t lived to see the destruction. Violet got her coat and carried it downstairs.

  She’d made biscuits the night before, so they each ate one with a cup of tea before heading out. It had snowed again during the night, and in a few places the snow had drifted over the road. More than once Ben Charles took a shovel from the boot and made a path for the horse. The main street through Carson Springs had been cleared, making the rest of the trip less difficult.

  Ben Charles removed his hat as they entered the church, and his hair was damp from exertion. He took a handkerchief from inside his jacket and wiped his forehead, then hung their coats in a cloakroom before coming back and escorting them into the sanctuary.

  A few older men spoke to Ben Charles as they made their way forward. About halfway toward the front of the narrow building, he stepped aside and ushered them into a row of pews, Tessa leading the way. Violet sat between brother and sister and studied her surroundings.

  Sun shone through the stained-glass windows on one wall and reflected color across the polished pews as well as the heads and shoulders of the people seated in the front rows. The scenes depicted were robed men and women, what she recognized as shepherds, the nativity, the crucifixion. As she looked at each one, she realize
d there was an order, beginning with the ten commandments, but she didn’t know what the loaves of bread or the men on the fishing boat stood for.

  The first strains of organ music caught her attention and she straightened to see who was playing the lovely music.

  Glancing aside, she caught Ben Charles watching her. Warmth crept up her cheeks.

  “Is this different from where you attended church?” he asked.

  “Very different.” She attempted to look away and let the subject drop, but the lie of omission wouldn’t let her keep silent. She looked up into his kind and compassionate eyes. “To be honest, I’ve never been to church before.”

  His surprise was evident in his expression. “I hope you enjoy it. If you have any questions, I’ll be glad to answer them afterward.”

  She nodded and averted her gaze just as two rows of burgundy-robed men and women filed in from a side door and stood behind the podium.

  The preacher joined them before the seated congregation. “Shall we all rise?”

  He prayed, but not as conversationally as Ben Charles did. When he’d finished, he sat and the choir led the congregation in songs. It was obvious Ben Charles and Tessa had sung them many times, because they barely looked at the music book the three of them shared, but Violet followed along with the words.

  Ben Charles’s nearness beside her as they sang unnerved her. He had a pleasant singing voice, and the barely discernible scents of his woodsy soap and shaving cream pleased her senses. She tried not to be distracted by his hand holding the book or his arm brushing her shoulder, but it was impossible. He was larger than life and because of that his presence took up more space and air than the average person.

  The preacher talked about Moses, and Ben Charles turned to the story in the front of his Bible. He held it so Violet could see, too. She listened with fascination as the man spoke of the pharaoh who kept the Israelites in bondage to his will, and how God called on Moses to lead the people to freedom. The man had a gift for storytelling, and Violet sat enthralled as he related how the pharaoh’s chariots chased the Israelites and the sea parted to let them escape, then closed behind them, swallowing up the enemies in pursuit.

  Occasionally she looked at Ben Charles’s Bible to see that the preacher was indeed relating the story as it unfolded there.

  After another song the service ended. A few neighbors introduced themselves to Violet, and Ben Charles introduced her to the preacher, whom he called Reverend Densmore.

  “You’re welcome to join us for lunch,” Ben Charles told Violet as they made their way through the path in the snow to the carriage. “But remember it’s your day off, and you may do anything you please.”

  She didn’t know anyone else yet, and she had no idea where she’d go, except back to the house alone. “I’d like to join you. Thank you for the invitation.”

  The dining room of the Conrad Hotel was decorated in warm tones, and a blazing fire burned in a huge stone fireplace. Sounds of glasses and silverware were muted by the massive beams overhead and velvet swag draperies tied back with gold cords.

  A waiter brought them menus and Violet studied the meals listed and the prices.

  “The roast chicken is always good,” Tessa told her. “And the pot roast is tender. It’s served with potatoes and carrots in a delicious gravy.”

  “What do you like?” she asked Ben Charles.

  “I almost always get a steak or the trout. And their cook does something special with the fried potatoes that makes them crispy.”

  When the waiter returned she ordered the trout. They were served steaming bowls of dark onion soup while they waited for their meals.

  “Was that story true?” she asked Ben Charles. “About Moses and the pharaoh?”

  “I believe the Bible is the inspired Word of God and everything in it is true,” he replied. “The men who recorded the happenings were the scholars of their time and wrote it all down as God led them. The Scripture was preserved over time. Scrolls were translated, and eventually type was set and the Bible printed into languages we can all understand.”

  “It’s just kind of hard to imagine a sea opening up and letting six hundred thousand men walk through.”

  “Able-bodied men, the verses say,” Ben Charles agreed. “Plus the children and all the women—probably old men who weren’t able-bodied being carried. And their herds and flocks, and the spoils they’d taken from the Egyptians.”

  “Think of how long it must have taken to get across the sea,” Violet said in awe.

  “I read about that sea in my studies,” Tessa spoke up. “It’s known as the Sea of Aquaba now, but it was the Red Sea in the Old Testament. Men have discovered a three-mile-wide land bridge from one side of the sea to the other. Archaeologists suggest a strong wind held back a few feet of water temporarily.” She glanced at her brother. “Remember when I showed that to you?”

  Ben Charles nodded.

  “Then perhaps the whole thing can be explained by natural means,” Violet suggested.

  Ben Charles smiled. “Archeologists know about that land bridge now, but God knew about it all along. He planned it at creation for such a time as He’d need it to save Moses and his people. I don’t believe in coincidence. Even if He used natural means to save His people, God prepared the way supernaturally.”

  Violet had a lot of information to absorb. “It’s all so fascinating.”

  “The story itself or how God planned ahead to save the Israelites?” Ben Charles asked.

  “Both,” she said with a smile. “This God of yours seems pretty amazing.”

  Ben Charles exchanged a glance with his sister. They both smiled at her.

  A middle-aged couple stopped to speak with Ben Charles briefly. He introduced them to Violet. “We will see you tomorrow,” the gentleman said as they departed.

  “What’s tomorrow?” Violet asked.

  “Guy Chapman’s funeral service and burial.”

  “The ground’s not too frozen?” Tessa asked.

  “Henry and his helpers were able to open the plot yesterday,” he replied.

  Violet’s mood plummeted.

  She finished her tea and folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to know gruesome details of the burial.

  As though he sensed her discomfort, Ben Charles changed the subject, asking her if she cared for dessert. She was full, as was Tessa, so he paid the bill and they headed for the house.

  “I hope snow holds off a day longer,” he said as they sat huddled in a row on the seat of the buggy.

  The heavy gray sky issued a warning.

  “Is Mr. Chapman’s family traveling?” Tessa asked.

  “Only a son from Iowa, and he’s already here,” Ben Charles replied. “The rest of his family is close by.”

  The ride home went smoothly, since Ben Charles had already cleared the road for the horses on their way to church.

  “I’ll be reading,” Tessa said once he assisted them down from the carriage.

  He led the horses and buggy to the carriage house.

  After hanging her coat and changing out of her good dress, Violet decided to look around the rest of the house. So far she’d only familiarized herself with the kitchen and dining room and the pantries. A formal sitting room at the front of the house was filled with ornate furniture, framed paintings, potted ferns and bric-a-brac. Violet assumed it had been decorated by Ben Charles’s mother many years ago. After checking the dirt in which the ferns grew, she got a pitcher and made several trips, watering the thirsty plants.

  Across the hall and farther down the hallway she discovered a massive pocket door. Initially she’d assumed this side of the house backed the funeral parlor, but since it didn’t she rolled back the door and instead discovered another well-appointed room. This one held more comfortable sofas and chairs, paintings of floral arrangements, several colorful lithographs, a pianoforte and a massive stone fireplace.

  On either side of the huge windows at the front were large open shelves di
splaying vases and busts and wood carvings of horses.

  Violet liked the muted wallpaper, the geometric-patterned carpets and the glass bowls of shells and small stones. She’d never seen so many different types of shells and she studied several of them.

  Seating herself on a comfortable sofa, she enjoyed the immense space and the care and detail that had gone into every object. The other was a formal room, perhaps for receiving guests, but this one felt welcoming and comfortable. Basking in the tranquility, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she’d had a moment’s peace like this.

  Nearly half an hour had passed when footsteps alerted her to Ben Charles approaching from the hallway. He entered the room and spotted her. “You must be chilly. I’ll add a log to the fire.”

  “Now that you mention it, I guess it’s a little cool in here. I was enjoying the room so much I really didn’t notice.”

  He opened a hinged box near the stone fireplace and took out a good-size log, which he added to the fire. After he used the poker to arrange it, and added a few sticks, the flames licked around the log, sending their warmth into the room.

  “Better?”

  “Much. Thank you. I hope it’s all right that I came in here.”

  “This is your home, Violet. That’s why I told you to make yourself comfortable.”

  “No one could be anything but comfortable in this room. Did your mother decorate it?”

  He glanced at the wall surrounding the fireplace. “No. Actually about five years ago I refurnished this room to be less formal and more peaceful.”

  “Well, you achieved that nicely. I admit I haven’t been in another home as nice as yours, but I can’t imagine anywhere more like a place of refuge.”

  “That’s kind of you to say. Thank you.” He brushed his palms together. “I didn’t come to disturb you. I wanted to check on the fireplaces and see what was needed this afternoon.”

  “You’re not disturbing me. If this is where you spend your Sunday afternoons, please don’t let me displace you.”